The Rest of the Mission
by nerdielady
Summary: This story covers what happens between the end of the TV series and the time the Enterprise goes into dry dock at the end of the five-year mission. The continuation of the story of Spock and Uhura, sequel to 'Temptations'.
1. Chapter 1:Shards

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 1: Shards**

**September, 2269**

He sat before his firepot, and tried to concentrate. He felt splintered, as though he were in a million parts. He tried to find an analogy, something that his brain could latch onto, to begin to rebuild, and then it came to him. It was as though his memory had been written on a very large pane of glass, and something hard had come along, and hit it hard, shattering it into a million tiny shards. In order to put it back together again, he must first seize one shard, and then search among all the others until he found one that would fit against it perfectly. And so he must go, one shard at a time, until his memory was rebuilt. He sighed. This was a daunting task and would take much time. But he could do it. He would do it.

He sat there, searching for just the right shard to start with. One sparkled at him, gleaming as though sunlight was hitting it. In his mind's eyes, he grabbed onto that shard, and fixed it into place, and memorized all the sharp peaks and angles of it, and then began to search for another that would fit to it.

When he had reached the end of his strength, he carefully insulated the reconstructed portion of his memory, and rose from the depths of his mediation, awaking shaking and exhausted. And found her there, with hot tea waiting for him, and fresh fruit. He could not express how much this meant to him. And after he had eaten, and drunk his tea, she walked him into the shower, and washed his body, and dried him, and put him to bed, covering him up carefully, because he was already asleep.

She stood and looked down at him, feeling the great tiredness, the disjointed feeling that he was not himself yet, only barely begun on this long task. She sighed, and turned, and left his quarters, going to her own, to lie on her bed, and wonder how long it would take, and what he would be like when he had finished.

It was a nightly chore, but one that he did not shirk. Each evening he found more shards than fit onto what he had reconstructed. Slowly he began to find that he had whole memories, although there was no sequence to them at all. Nor were they connected in any way. It was like watching the flash of brightly colored fish in water with the sun glancing off. First they were here, and then they were there, and after a while they just seemed to disappear entirely. He despaired of ever being whole again, but he did not give up.

And every evening, she was there, seeing that he ate, and drank, and showered, and slept, when he had finished all that he could achieve for that night. But she did not hold him, and she did not lay down in his bed, and she did not kiss him, or tell him that she loved him. But she did not close down the link between them, either, even though it was not open very wide.

Slowly his bodily equilibrium returned. His posture improved. His gait was still stiff, but he did not appear to be staggering any longer. He began to stretch, not feeling that he could do more than that, but wanting to engage his muscles to the extent that he could. And he escorted her to the mess hall every morning for breakfast, and by now he ate much as he had used to, for that meal. His agility had not yet returned, however, and he knew it would be some time before it did.

McCoy still watched him critically, and Kirk as well. He knew that they watched him, but he also knew that they did not understand the depth to which he had been damaged. But Kirk did not assign him to landing parties now, and for that he was extremely grateful.

There came a time when he looked at his ka'athyra, and took it down from the padded clasp where he kept it, and ran his hands over the strings. It had been so long since he played it that the strings were loose, and untuned. With great care, he tightened the strings, and attempted to tune it. He could not get it right, and trembled with the effort. And she came, and sat beside him, and laid her hands on his, and together, the tuning was accomplished. And he played a scale, and then another, and a single tear fell from his eye. And she laid her face against his back, and her hands against his waist, and was still there, until he laid the instrument aside, and breathed deeply, in control of himself again.

On the bridge, he became proficient at his console once again, but found still that he could not volunteer information. Whatever was asked for, he provided, but he did not seem to have any initiative at all. He did not flail against this affliction, knowing that eventually it would pass. She sat calmly at her station, a beacon of light and hope to him, steadying him simply with her presence.

The days stretched into weeks, and he slowly reclaimed his memories, and began to find some order in them. The pane of glass grew first this way, and then that, assuming strange configurations, but it did grow. Slowly, carefully, but always larger, always more complete. But still he remembered almost nothing of what had happened on that planet. He despaired that he ever would. And he felt that he must know, in order to regain himself. So he persisted. And she was there, every night. But she never stayed. As soon as he slept, she left.

He found that he could play chess again, if not at his previous level. But Kirk was ecstatic when he appeared in the rec room, on the evening that they had always played, and gave him one game. He did not think that he could have played two. But it was another shard, locked into place. It was progress.

He began to go to the gym, to stretch, to do calisthenics. He walked on the treadmill. And eventually, he began to swim. His body improved, becoming more coordinated, slightly faster in his reflexes. He was satisfied with this progress, realizing that it would still be some time before he could even think of attempting suus mahna or any other martial art, or any type of sparing whatsoever. But it would come, eventually, he was sure of that now.

And there came a night when he asked her, in all seriousness, when she would forgive him for whatever it was that he had done. And she looked at him, and laid her hand gently on his face, and told him that she would forgive him when he forgave himself. He did not understand her then, but he accepted what she said. Perhaps when he had all the shards fused together again, he would know how to respond to her statement.


	2. Chapter 2:Feeling My Way

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 2: Feeling My Way**

**October, 2269**

He found another shard that fit, and fixed it firmly into place. And was suffused with such an influx of emotion that, if he had been standing, he would have fallen over. Anger. Black, burning anger. Furious anger. He shook with it, growling aloud. He struggled, trying to confine it, to find the source, so that he could control it. And he felt then, a soft tendril of peace flowing in, and grasped at it, grounding himself, centering himself, confronting the anger, and driving it back, pushing it down until it did not control him any longer. He heaved and gasped, the adrenaline released by the unruly emotion racing through his body, making his heart pound and his chest heave as he gasped for breath. But little by little, he overcame the sensations, and he rose slowly through the layers of his meditation, and opened his eyes, to find her crouched there beside him, her fingers laid gently against his face.

"Are you alright, Spock?"

"I believe that I have it under control now. I thank you for your assistance. It was extremely beneficial."

"You were making a lot of noise and shaking."

He thought that that was entirely possible. "I found another segment of my memory, and it was full of anger. The anger overcame me. I found it difficult to control." He sat quietly for several minutes, and then lifted his head again. "I did not recall anger. Not until now. I am sure that I do not wish to experience it again."

She laughed softly then. "Not many of us really do. But it's important for you to understand it and know how to control it, so that it doesn't control you."

Yes, she was entirely correct. But then he believed that she usually was.

"Are you going to try again this evening?"

He shook his head. "I am not. I do not believe that I am in the correct frame of mind to attempt more tonight."

"Come then, and eat." She rose and headed for the small dining area, and began to prepare tea.

He sat at the table, and ate the food she put in front of him, and drank his tea. And then he looked at her, and considered. "I do not believe I could have handled this ...emotion… earlier. It is fortunate that I did not pick that particular shard before."

"Perhaps you were aware at some level that you could handle it now. That it was time to begin to integrate that portion of your mind."

He nodded. It was certainly possible that she was correct. He was filled with lethargy now, and did not protest when she led him to the bathroom, and started the water flow, leaving a soft towel on the counter for him. He wished fleetingly, that she would come and bathe him, as she had the first few nights that he had spent in this endeavor, but he knew somehow that she would not, so he did not ask.

When he exited the bathroom, dressed in his black tee and loose pants, she had the bedding drawn back, and he gratefully laid himself down. She pulled the covers up over him, and bent down and placed a very small kiss on his forehead, and then rose and left him alone. He lay silently for some time before he slept that night, still processing that dark wash of emotion. He recognized anger now, and would seek to avoid it in the future.

Two evenings later, as he fuzed another shard into place, he was filled with abject terror, shaking with it, crying out. He started out of his meditation suddenly, clammy and shivering. And she was there, running her hands over him, soothing. He clutched at her hands, pulling her close, so that he could feel her body against his, and shook for some time. When he felt that he could speak again, he said only one word. "Terror." He could feel her soft warmth all around him, and it sufficed. But when he lay in his bed, he would not let go of her hand. She sat on the edge of his bed, and let him hold her hand, and with the other, she smoothed his hair back off his face, and stroked his forehead and cheek lightly, until he sighed and relaxed and slept.

The next time a shard produced such an effect, he was suffused with softly glowing light and felt himself buoyed up as though he floated on air, surrounded by such a wonderful sustainment that he had no wish to terminate the experience. When he gently returned to himself, he opened his eyes in wonder and spoke softly to her. "Hope." And she smiled at him, her face so full of happiness that he leaned toward her, wanting, but drew back in sudden shyness, not certain that he had any right to do so.

The pane of glass was beginning to have a definite shape, instead of growing amorphously. He could see that it would have definite edges, sometime soon. There were many fewer shards to choose from now, but it took longer to find where they fit. He realized that at some recent point he had changed from choosing a point on the pane, and trying to find the shard that fit there, to choosing a shard, and trying to find the place where it fit. He wondered why he had changed his approach, and why he had not noticed it until now, but he had no answers.

He found that he had continuous spans of memory now, although they were still not well ordered. He could look at a particular piece of memory, and it was complete, and well ordered in itself, but not attached to anything. He could not dwell on this. First he must find the place where each shard went, and then, when that was finished, he would tackle stringing all the pieces of memory together, sorting and indexing them. He found he had more confidence that he could do this, less hesitation.

And still, each morning, he waited outside her door for her to join him for breakfast. And she sat by his side, her left to his right, and this felt correct, although there seemed to be something missing, but he could not say what it was, even though he felt that it was something important. He knew that she was waiting for him to discover what it was himself. And then one morning, when they had sat themselves down, as he put his napkin in his lap, his hand brushed against hers, and he knew exactly what was missing. He tugged at her hand, and laid it on his thigh, and sighed and began to eat his breakfast. And she did not remove it. And for the first time in a very long time, he was content.


	3. Chapter 3:Forgiveness

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 3: Forgiveness**

**November, 2269**

He sat in front of his firepot, hands steepled before him. The glass pane of his memory was almost complete now, edges sharply delineated. And most of the connections were made, the indexing completed. He now had consecutive memories for most of his life. The years with Nyota were sharp and clear in his memory once more. He was far too aware of what he might be losing. He ached for her, to hold her close, to inhale the scent of her, to feel her move against his body. But still she held herself away from him, never staying with him, never inviting him to stay with her. There was something he must do before such would occur again. She had told him that she would forgive him. He did remember that. But the conditions were strange, and he did not fully understand what she meant. He must forgive himself. That much was clear. What was still not clear was what he must forgive himself for.

He had tried to bring that short period of time into focus, but he had had absolutely no luck. It was as though a wall separated him from those events. He was calmer now, more in control of himself. He presumed that to most, he must appear unchanged, but he knew that that was not the case. He was greatly changed. There was the time before Sarpeidon, and the time after it, but the time between - the time he had actually spent there, those four hours - did not seem to exist at all. Was it because of the retreat into the past, or was there another reason? Did he fear to see what his actions had been then? He began to feel that he had barricaded himself off from those memories, himself. There did not seem to be much other explanation.

He sighed, and sat up straighter, placed his hands on his thighs, began to breath deeply, and very slowly. He closed his eyes, and sank down, into the depths of his own mind, seeking clarity. And when he had sunk down far enough, he saw the dull blankness of the barrier he had erected. It appeared seamless, all encompassing. He had definitely meant to keep himself out. Now, however, he must heal himself completely, and to do that, he must have these memories, confront them, make them lose the power they now held over him.

He searched through his arsenal, and found the right weapons - hope, and love, and the need for survival - and he endowed them with all his strength, and all his power, and all his intentions, and focused on that dull barrier, until it slowly dissolved. And there were the memories that he had fled from. He ordered them, arranged them, linked them front and back to his other memories. And then he studied them, observed what he had done, what he had considering doing. He was appalled. But he also knew that he had not been in his right mind. He had not consciously set out to do these things. They were not his choices.

Step by step, moment by moment, he reviewed what had happened, the things that had been said, and done, by others, as well as himself. He pinpointed the moments when events could have gone in another direction, if he had known the truth, if he had been in control of himself. And when it was all laid out, bare to his scrutiny, he realized what Nyota had known all along. These were not things that he would ever have done by choice. Never. Not when in his right mind. And so, event by event, choice by choice, he forgave himself. He did not erase these memories, but he did denote them as false actions, unaware decisions. He would not be fooled by them again.

Slowly he retraced his steps, moving up the layers of his mind, returning slowly to full consciousness. And when he did, he realized that something had changed about himself. That crippling cloud of self-doubt and punishment was gone. His mind was free again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing his muscles to relax. He shook his head, he opened his eyes, and looked about him, as though seeing this room for the first time in many long weeks.

She sat at the table, watching him. When his eyes found her, he rose, standing straight and tall, his balance sure for the first time in long weeks. He strode towards her, and his body was his own again, he moved with grace and agility, confident, in control. She looked at him, and tears streaked down her cheeks. "Oh, Spock."

He stopped at her side, and reached out his hands, and lifted her from her chair, brushing the side of her face with his fingers, hungering for her. "Nyota." His voice was deep, and full, and strained with emotion. "I have found myself. I have re-ordered myself. I am whole again. And it is because of you, because of what you told me, when I did not understand what you meant."

"And what was that, Spock?" Her eyes sparkled with the tears that stood there, but there was a glorious smile on her face.

"You told me that I must forgive myself, and I did not see how I could forgive what I did not remember, nor understand. And yet, it was not until after I had forgiven myself that I was able to completely dissolve the barriers that I had built to separate myself from actions that I could not condone, would not have performed if I had been in control of myself. And once the barriers were gone, I could integrate these memories into my mind, and see that I had not performed any actions willingly nor consciously. What happened to me there was as though it happened to another that happened to inhabit my body. I had no control over them at all. I have now marked these memories so that they cannot cause me any further harm. I thank you for your faith in me, for your strength, for your continued presence at my side as I struggled. It is something that has been invaluable to me, and there is no way that I can ever repay you for what you have done. You have saved me, Nyota."

Trembling, she reached up, and brushed her fingers against his cheek, and he felt the link open, so wide, so glorious, between them. "Oh, Spock, just feeling you in control again, yourself again, that's all I need. All I ever wanted." The tears were streaking down her face again, and she was shaking now.

He wrapped his arms about her, and pulled her close against his body. "Ah, Nyota, k'diwa, do not cry for me. I assure you that I am recovered." He bent his face, burying it in her hair, inhaling her wonderful scent, filling himself with it, and with the feel of her body against his. Reactions long subdued began to rise, and he felt himself becoming aroused. He groaned softly at her, and she moaned in reply. He began to shake, struggling mightily to control himself. She must make the decision herself, he would assume nothing, demand nothing. But she had her arms around his neck, her face lifted to his, and he could not resist her. His mouth fastened over hers, and he felt her moans as his tongue teased hers, gently at first, and then more intently. When they broke apart to breathe, they were both panting, and his control was crumbling. Her name fell from his lips in a long sigh, and she was whispering to him, words that set him to blazing, shaking from the need to possess her, to assure himself that she still belonged to him. When he lifted her, she did not complain, but clung to him, making soft noises, as he carried her to the bed.

With trembling hands, he undressed her, caressing each newly exposed area of skin with his fingers, his mouth, until she writhed beneath him, gasping, moaning. Her hands pulled at his clothing, and he swiftly removed it, lowering his nude body over hers, gasping at the feel of her skin against his. Her hands ran over his body, touching all the places that she knew so well, setting him on fire. He cried out when her hands found his lok, stroking, squeezing, and he would have entirely lost his control then if she had not been there, such a strong presence in his mind, guiding, helping him to hold himself together. His fingers found the wet folds of her flesh, and she cried out, arching her body against him. He stroked her lightly, sliding one finger and then another inside her body, until she sobbed and cried out "Now, Spock, now!"

When he slid into her body, he shuddered with the glory of it. He held himself still while he struggled for control, and then he began to move, slowly, carefully, trying to prolong the ecstasy as long as possible. But she was sobbing at him, moving beneath him, arching her body up against him, and he could not withstand her. When he felt her contract her muscles about him, he roared at her, and filled her with his heat. All was light, white, hot, intense, and she was there, so closely entwined with him, mind and body, that he could not tell that there were two beings there, and all he could feel was her love, and the ecstasy that she shared with him.

It seemed to go on forever, leaving him, at last, shaking with weakness. He rolled to the side, bringing her with him, cradling her against his body. She nestled her head down on his shoulder, her breath so soft against the skin of his neck. He was in rapture. When he could speak again, he breathed the question that he had meant to ask her earlier. "Will you forgive me, Nyota?"

"Ah, Spock, I have already done so. I was only waiting for you to forgive yourself."

"I did not mean to fail you, Nyota. It was beyond my control."

"You did not fail me, Spock, nor did you fail yourself. It was entirely out of your control. Please do not continue to punish yourself over this."

"If you command it, then I must obey."

She sighed, and snuggled closer to him. "Pull up the blanket, Spock, and keep me warm."

She was already falling into sleep. He covered her up, and wound his arms more closely around her, and lay there listening to her even breaths. And when she slept, a few scalding tears rolled down his face, as he contemplated all that he could have lost, all that he had regained. He would honor her, he would show her as well as the entire crew, how he felt about her. It was the least he could do.


	4. Chapter 4:Openness

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 4: Openness**

**Early December, 2269**

The morning after his breakthrough, he awoke to the feel of her body against his, and he lay there, treasuring her, until she awoke as well. She was a bit flustered, to be there, but he did not let that continue more than a moment. They showered, slightly unsure of how to handle this when it had been so long, and dressed. She still had clean clothing in his quarters, he discovered to his great relief. That she had not removed it came as a great delight to him.

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and they exited his quarters. There were two crewmen in the corridor, one of whom had his back to them. The other stared openly, but said nothing. They proceed to the mess hall, and she sat beside him, placing her hand on his thigh under the table as she always used to do, and he found himself relaxed and confident again.

They headed for the bridge, and assumed their stations, and performed their functions. Perhaps Kirk looked at them a bit oddly, but by the end of the shift, he was so relieved to realize that he had his first officer back in a fully functioning mode again, that he had forgotten that they had entered together, and that Spock had assisted Uhura into her chair, as though he did this every day.

That evening was movie night, and it was the first time they had attended since Sarpeidon. He ordered up the popcorn, and escorted her down the hall, and they sat in the dark and touched each other, softly. She fed him popcorn, and he nibbled on her fingers, and ran his hand over the smooth skin of her leg. And when they left the rec room where the movies were shown, they went straight to her quarters, and he touched her, and tasted her, and made her cry out at him. And she slept curled up against him, her face against his neck, as he lay there in contentment.

Each day presented him with an opportunity to show her his intentions, and he did not flinch from them. He walked the corridors with her, regardless of who watched, and they sat in the observatory, watching the star go by, while she leaned against him and held his hand, and he did not care who might see.

They ate every meal together if possible. They left the bridge together at shift-end, and left the turbolift together as well. And if eyebrows were lifted, or voices whispered, he paid no attention.

Once again, they resumed their practice of entertaining their friends in the rec room one evening per week. They brought their ka'athyras and played, and she sang, and sometimes she flirted shamelessly with him, and he allowed it, his eyes twinkling. Occasionally, his lips quirked up at the corners at her, and she smiled at him, her eyes so warm. He could feel her, through their bond, so happy.

He felt himself becoming more and more content, more settled into himself. It was such a relief after the long weeks of pain and struggle, that he allowed himself the luxury of simply enjoying it. Perhaps that was not such a good idea.


	5. Chapter 5:Reaction

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 5: Reaction**

**Late December, 2269**

There was a buzz in the corridors on the ship, in the mess hall, in the rec room, even on the bridge. It started small and gradually grew, fed by more and more eyewitnesses. It started with the crewman who just happened to be looking straight at Spock's doorway when they exited together that first morning. Although he said nothing to them, later that day, when he was in a quiet place with another crew member, he recounted what he had seen. There was doubt expressed that it meant what he thought it did, but as the days grew, and there were more witnesses, the doubt began to be erased.

A number of people saw them either leaving or entering each other's quarters, sometimes together, sometimes alone. It was noted that tapping the touchplate was sufficient for each of them to access the other's quarters, obviously meaning that codes had been entered. This was surely an important point.

More than one person had been situated correctly to see her slip her hand over onto his thigh under the cover of the table. No one could deny the meaning of _that_. Although there was still some resistance, considering who he was.

Someone watched them, in the darkened movie room, and saw how he nibbled on her fingers when she fed him popcorn. Just the feeding was enough to cause talk. The nibbling was the cause of disbelief at first, and then consternation.

Many observed them walking the corridors, either hand in hand, or with her hand tucked into his arm. And not a few saw them sitting in the observatory, with her head upon his shoulder, and his arm about her. And every single one of those was shocked into silence. For a while.

The flirting while she sang was remarked upon, but that had been going on since she arrived on the ship, and at first there was denial. But when more than one saw him smile at her, denial flew out the door.

Eventually, the talk reached the ears of the officers. Some of the officers even witnessed some of the events. And finally it came to the notice of the captain, who found it hard to believe, in the beginning. Eventually, he too, witnessed a scene that left him standing there with his mouth open, unsure that he had actually seen what he knew that he had seen.

They went blissfully about their business, ignoring everyone else. She was overflowing with happiness that he was no longer trying to hide their relationship, and he was simply content that she was happy. They did not expect anyone to be upset, to complain. But of course, someone did.


	6. Chapter 6:Confrontation

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 6: Confrontation**

**Early January, 2270**

He was bent over his sensor viewer when Kirk approached him, on edge, and asked him to accompany his to his ready room. It really seemed more like an order than a request. He raised one eyebrow in question, but Kirk was not giving any hints as to what he wanted to discuss. He straightened up, and turned the science station over to Chekov, following Jim as he strode off the bridge.

When they reached the ready room, Jim did not sit down, although he motioned at the chairs. As his captain did not sit, neither did Spock. Jim continued to pace about the room, working himself up, until he finally turned and glared at Spock. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

As this question was impossible to answer correctly without knowing the context, Spock answered in the only logical way. "I am standing in your ready room, waiting to find out what it is that you wish to discuss." He said this in a totally controlled, emotionless voice, sure that the next thing that came out of Jim's mouth would be an expletive. And he was not mistaken.

"You know damn well that's not what I meant! Damn it! Answer the question!"

"I would answer the question more clearly if I had some idea of the area you wished me to address."

Jim looked at him, his mouth open, and then he charged across the room, extending one finger and poking it hard into Spock's chest. "I. Want. You. To. Explain. What. The. Hell. You. Think. You're. Doing. With. Uhura." The finger stabbed Spock's chest with the utterance of each word.

Spock reached down and took the offensive finger between his thumb and forefinger and moved it away from his chest. "I believe that is personal, captain. And I am not required to explain my personal life to you."

"PERSONAL! Fuck personal! Just explain why you're parading all around the ship with her! And do it right now."

"Because I wish to." That was all he said, and he said it very calmly.

"Do you know how many crewmen have come up to me to tell me of your goings-on? Do you?"

"No, sir, but I will listen if you wish to tell me."

Jim spluttered at him. "I would have thought you of all people would have had the rules about fraternization memorized."

"In point of fact, I do."

"Then why the hell are you violating them?"

"I am not violating any regulation, captain."

"And just how the hell do you figure that, mister?"

"She is not under my direct chain of command. She is a department head in her own right. I do not write her annual performance review, you do. There is no regulation that forbids us to enjoy each other's company."

Kirk spluttered and jerked and cursed, but eventually he wound down. "Spock, how could you do this to me?"

"I was not aware that I had done anything to you."

"You blind-sided me. I didn't believe all those tales. I told people if they kept spreading gossip I would have to invoke punishment. And here you were, all the time, doing what they said you were."

Carefully, Spock planned what to say. "I have not heard the gossip you are referring to, therefore I can not necessarily agree that I am performing the actions ascribed to me in its content."

Jim started at him and shook his head. "I thought you just said you were."

"I stated that I was indeed parading around the ship in the presence of Lieutenant Uhura. That is all I admitted to. Without knowledge of the other charges against me, I cannot either confirm or deny their truthfulness."

Jim collapsed into one of the chairs, rubbing his face in his hands. "All right. All right. Just sit down and tell me what it is that you have been doing."

Spock sat himself opposite his captain, and spoke once more. "I am courting the lieutenant."

"Courting? Courting? What does that mean?"

"It is a human term is it not? One I thought you extremely familiar with. Since I perceive that you are not, I will elaborate. I escort her to meals, and movies, and the observation deck, and other places that she wishes to go. I speak with her. I allow her to cling to my arm if it pleases her. And I do these things publicly. This is hardly new, Jim. I have been doing many of these things for the past year."

Jim sat there, stunned. "For the past year? How come I never noticed?"

"I am not aware of the reason for your failure to notice. Perhaps we have become more obvious lately, since my recovery from the damage done to my mind on Sarpeidon. She was great assistance to me in recovering my equilibrium and sanity. It was my decision to become more 'obvious' as a result. It is what she wishes. It is what I wish."

Jim sat there, shaking his head. "All right then. As long as you don't do anything outrageous to call attention to yourselves, I guess there isn't anything I can do about it. As if either of you ever would." He looked across the table at his friend. "I guess I didn't realize how much that jaunt into the past messed you up."

"It was severe. Much damage was incurred. My memory in particular was much confused, disordered. However, I have now recovered."

Jim just sat there, still shaking his head. "All right. All right. Dismissed." He waved his hand towards the door, and Spock rose and turned to go, looking back just before exiting to see Jim still sitting there, still not believing what he had heard.


	7. Chapter 7:Frustrated

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 7: Frustration**

**Mid January, 2270**

He strode away from the captain's ready room, back toward the bridge, only realizing when he was actually already in the turbolift, that there were only minutes remaining in the shift. Well, he would just collect Nyota then, and head for the mess hall. The turbolift doors opened, and there she was. He stepped backwards, and she stepped in. The doors closed behind her, and she reached out for him. He drew her to his chest, holding her close while he gave instructions to the turbolift. He buried his face in her hair and drew her scent in, striving to calm himself.

She drew back some and looked up at him. "What's wrong? What did the captain say?"

"We will discuss this later, in private."

"Okay, then. But you feel upset."

"That would be a fairly accurate description of my current outlook, yes." He sighed and turned her about, just before the turbolift stopped. When the doors opened, they stepped out, perfectly demure, and headed down the corridor towards the mess hall.

They were joined by several of the other bridge officers, as well as Dr McCoy, before they were finished with their meal. He tried to be as normal as he could, but his mind kept circling back to that conversation in the ready room. He was glad to rise and leave the company of the other officers, heading out to his quarters, with her on his arm.

When they were safely inside his quarters, he allowed his frustration to surface. Nyota turned to him, concerned. "Okay, now you really need to tell me what the problem is. You're really upset." She placed her hand softly on his face, and stroked gently, trying to soothe him. He could feel her soft coolness, offering calmness and concern.

He drew her to the couch, and settled down, pulling her close to his side with one arm wrapped about her. She snuggled up against him, nestling her head on his shoulder. This was definitely better. She had his other hand, caressing it gently with her fingertips. She was not trying to arouse him, simply relax him. He was filled with her presence, and it did indeed help him to relax. He tried very hard to clear his mind before beginning to speak to her of the things that Jim had said.

"He was angry."

"Indeed he was. For some reason, he accused me of partaking of your company solely to aggravate him. This is most perplexing."

"Oh, no, that's just Jim Kirk." She was laughing softly. "The whole world has to revolve around him."

He considered her words. There was certainly truth in her statement. "He believes that I should have asked his permission to court you?"

"Well, maybe not that far. But I'm sure he feels that you should have told him before it got so noticeable."

He thought about what she had said, reflecting on JIm's personality. There was a great likelihood that she was entirely correct. But it had never once occurred to him that that was a necessity.

He sighed, long and hard. "What would you suggest that we do, then?"

"Just exactly what we have been doing. He has no right to interfere in our private lives. We have just as much right as anyone else on this ship to have a private relationship."

"Ah, but that is the difference. We are no longer private. We have become public. And there is gossip. He did wish me to either confirm or deny the content of the gossip without ever telling me what it was. Of course, I refused to do that. I did admit to escorting you about the ship, eating meals in public with you, going to the movies with you, and sitting on the observation deck together. I also admitted that there were times when you clung to my person during these events. And I reminded him that I had been doing these things publicly for the past year."

"Well, that's true, and then it isn't."

He twisted his neck around so that he could look at her. "That was a confusing statement."

She giggled at him. "Yes, I know. See, the problem is that we haven't been consistent. We've done things publicly, and then pulled back when people started noticing. So no one was really sure what was going on."

He thought about her statement. Yes, this was exactly what they had done. He sighed. "Tell me what you wish, Nyota. If you do not want to be the object of gossip, or the captain's ire, tell me, and I shall go back to being more controlled, more private."

She turned about then, and claimed his face with her hands, pulling him down until their lips met softly. She whispered against his skin. "Don't you dare. I love being public with you. You are mine, and I want everyone to know that. The gossip will die down, just wait and see. And Jim has no right to be mad, none at all." She began to cover his face with soft kisses, and he pulled her onto his lap, to give her better access. In very little time, she was sighing and moaning softly at him, and he was wanting her bare, in order to touch her skin. He rose from the couch, and carried her into the sleeping alcove, laying her on the bed, and drawing her clothing slowly from her body, to her great delight.

He spent considerable time, touching, tasting, caressing, until she was moaning and moving under him, her hands and mouth enflaming him until he was panting over her, and she was pulling at him, eager and ready. He lifted her hips, burying his face against her, his tongue busy, and she began to cry out loudly, causing his lok to twitch and jerk. He would not be able to endure much longer, he did not have his full control back yet. And he was beginning to think that he not wish to have it back. When she bucked and screamed at him, flooding his mouth with her lovely essence, he shook with the effort of controlling himself. And then he lowered her back to the bed and moved over her, sliding into her wet flesh so easily, shaking with the glory of it. He moved against her body, sliding back and forth, feeling the tug of flesh against flesh, panting, growling at her, and she shrieked then, convulsing about him, pulling him into the white hot ecstasy with her.

Later, he pulled her against his body, curving about her, sheltering her, content and sated.


	8. Chapter 8:Ways and Means

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 8: Ways and Means**

**Late January, 2270**

He noticed a small lab that appeared to be unused. He made careful note of where it was and watched it for several days, but never saw anyone there. The next morning, when she was ready to take her break, he silently told her of its location. He met her there a few minutes later, and found it to be an excellent trysting place, with numerous surfaces which were of invaluable use. As long as this lab remained unused by others, they could continue to use it themselves, being careful as they left to ensure that they were not seen. This they would keep private.

There was a place in one of the Jeffries tubes where the light tubes that carried communications all over the ship had a major switching area. It was not the best place to have located it, as there were numerous other tubes and conduits there as well. Almost every week, something would go wrong there, and require the actual physical presence of at least one person to repair. He found this quite convenient. She merely giggled at him, sliding her hands into the rear pockets of his trousers and rubbing his buttocks, distracting him quite well.

They developed quite a fondness for the arboretum. It had many nooks and crannies that were screened from casual glances by greenery of one sort or another. Often they strolled there arm in arm, talking, passing other crew members. If occasionally, they disappeared from view for some times, and returned to the paths somewhat breathless and rumpled, no one really noticed.

The circuit around the saucer was not much used. Most people preferred to go straight to their target destination, instead of circling clear around the saucer. Therefore, when they walked there, they were usually entirely alone. Nevertheless, they were circumspect - for the most part. A few kisses here and there, a hand where it perhaps should not have been in public, her head nestled against his shoulder with his arm wound around her - as these things were not seen, they were not commented on.

They often spent part of an evening on the observation deck. It was a favorite with many crewmembers. They stood before the transparent walls, gazing out into space, or sat on one of the scattered benches, speaking quietly to each other. Here they were observed, but the others who frequented this area quickly became so used to seeing them there that they thought nothing of it.

And of course, they always sat together in the mess hall. And she laid her hand upon his thigh under the table, and he looked forward to this with unconcealed anticipation. Such a simple thing, but it never failed to thrill him.

They met in the gym, as usual, every Saturday morning. And if there was more touching than usual, there was always an explanation for it. He must show her how to position her body, how to move. He must check to be sure she was uninjured after a tumble or hard fall. When he demonstrated some movement for her, she must put her hands upon him to feel how the muscles moved. As this had been going on for almost two years now, absolutely no one remarked on it. It was amazing how aroused they could get in this manner.

Movie night was always well attended. And they were not the only couple nibbling on each other's fingers or sneaking a kiss when the screen was especially dark. Nor were they the only ones who ever snuck out before the movie was over, needing privacy as soon as possible.

They found the places, the times, to be together. And when evening came, they went to her quarters, or to his, and locked the door, and turned off the comlink, and had their private time, their special time. And never once forgot to engage the soundproofing.


	9. Chapter 9:Heart on My Sleeve

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 9: Heart on my Sleeve**

**Mid February, 2270**

The ship was full of laughter and joy. For some reason, this particular month seemed to cause that. The normal dances were scheduled for all the mess halls, which would be full of people, moving the tables and chairs out and decorating, as soon as the evening meal had been served on Monday. Nyota had said nothing, but he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wished to go to the dance.

He waited until they were in her quarters for the evening, and then he asked her, offhandedly, if she had decided what dress she was going to wear to the dance. He needed to know what color it was. She gaped at him, and then flung herself in his arms, hugging him closely, and telling him how wonderful he was. He did not know whether he was actually wonderful or not, but he had certainly made her happy.

On Monday morning, he went to the arboretum, where flowers were being made available to all who asked for them. He specified the color of her dress, and was given three choices. After a moment's deliberation, he picked the orchid, carrying it away carefully, and placing it on the dresser in his sleeping alcove until time to carry it to her in the evening.

Suppertime came early that day, and people hurried through the meal, rushing off to primp. Nyota was no exception, telling him that she needed plenty of time to get ready. He gravely told her that as she would be the loveliest woman there, there was no need for her to spend so much time getting ready. She dimpled and blushed and kissed him, but she went into her quarters alone, telling him when to call for her.

He went to his own quarters, and showered and dressed in his formal robes, then changed his mind, and put on the dark suit that he had worn on Earth, to escort his mother. It did still fit him, although it was beginning to be tight through the shoulders. There was a white shirt that went with it, and somewhere there was a neck decoration, rather archaic, but expected. A quick search of his dresser located it, and it took only a moment for him to remember how it was draped and tied. He looked at himself in the mirror, critically, and determined that he was presentable. And then he lifted the orchid carefully, and headed for her quarters.

She opened her door when he pushed the chime button, and gasped at him, pulling him into her quarters and making him turn around so that she could look at him from all angles. And then she took the orchid and did something with it, making it stick to the front of her dress. She looked up at him, her face aglow, and he kissed her softly, before tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow and setting off for the newly decorated mess hall.

Their entry caused something of a sensation, which displeased him immensely, but he tried not to show it. She was too happy for him to ruin her mood. He drew her off to the side of the room, where there were some tables against the wall, and they sat down, joined almost immediately by Bones and Scotty, both carrying drinks already. There was some conversation, and then the lights dimmed, and the music started. To the astonishment of everyone at their table, he rose immediately, and took her hand, and led her out onto the floor. She leaned against him, sighing, as they moved about the room in time to the music. And she whispered thank-yous into his ear, so pleased with him that their link overflowed with it.

He did not dance every dance with her, but enough that she was well satisfied. And their friends were completely astonished. Even Jim came up and asked him whether he was in his right mind. He simply raised one eyebrow and replied that she wished to dance, and he was glad to assist her in this.

Anyone who looked at the two of them close enough that evening would have seen from the look in his eyes exactly how he felt about her. How she felt about him was easily discernable. The final dance was slow and sultry, and she nestled close against him, sighing happily. And then they were walking down the corridors, and entering into her quarters, and what happened after that was not for anyone else's eyes but theirs.

She slept very, very soundly, eventually. With a most pleased and satisfied smile on her face. He held her, and brushed his hand over her hair softly, most pleased with himself for pleasing her so successfully, at so little cost to himself. She was well worth it.


	10. Chapter 10:Down to the Sea

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 10: Down to the Sea**

**Late February, 2270**

The away team assembled in the transporter bay. They were hung about with all sorts of equipment. The world beneath them was strange, consisting almost entirely of water. Even more so than Earth. They would be beaming down to the largest island, but it was not very large. Sensor scans had shown that there was no animal or insect life on the planet, and very little plant life that was not underwater. There were reed-like plants growing in the shallow water around the small islands, but little else. All the life was in the water. But there were strange signals that could not be well assessed from space, and so they were going down, with equipment, to try to make sense of them.

He kept an eye on Nyota. He was not at all sure that he wanted her down there. At least he would accompany her, be there if anything happened. And she was so delighted to be going, to get a chance to analyze those signals. He motioned her up onto the pad, as well as the others, and followed, taking the center front disk, beside Jim, who certainly would add nothing to the party. Why the man insisted on being part of every away team, he still did not understand. Another scientist would have been a big help.

The familiar tingles filled them, and then they were there, smelling the scent of ozone, and salt water, and something else, something not quite definable. He looked about. Mud. Water. Reeds. And absolutely nothing else.

The scientists set up their equipment. Nyota was already taking recordings. He did not press her for results, and interrupted Jim when he started to. "Give her time. The answers will not come immediately."

Jim nodded, frustrated, and began to pace about the small island, getting in everyone's way. Eventually, he went and subtly maneuvered him, so that he was pacing closer to the water than where the instruments were situated, no longer interfering. So it was that the captain was the first to observe the disturbance in the water, and point it out. He looked to see what Jim was talking about, and forced him to move further inland then. Which was good, because the tentacles that whipped out missed him by only centimeters. If he had still been at the water's edge, he would have been injured, or worse. Everyone crowded into the center of the island, the water frothing all about. He whipped out his communicator and quickly ordered beam-up. The equipment would come afterwards, it was imperative to get the people out first.

They stood on the transporter deck, shaken. Nothing they had observed from space had prepared them for the things had had attacked them with no warning, no provocation. He got them off the deck, and signaled Scotty to beam up the equipment. When it materialized, four tentacle segments fell writhing to the deck. They had been none too quick in returning. A minute more would have had an entirely different outcome.

Fortunately, none of the equipment was severely damaged, and they were able to salvage most of the data that had been collected. And the planet was marked as dangerous, and they headed elsewhere, while there were a number of happy scientists, with data to analyze, uninjured.

And she was safe, and he was even less likely to want her on another such team. He knew that he would have to allow it, but he would watch even more carefully, the next time. He would allow her to come to no danger that he could prevent.


	11. Chapter 11:A Really Bad Day

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 11: A Really Bad Day**

**Mid March, 2270**

Things just seemed to go from bad to worse.

First there was so much atmospheric interference that Uhura had great difficulties in keeping in communication with the landing party. And Scotty wasn't sure that the transporters were going to work correctly for the same reason.

And then there was the fact that Jim Kirk kept getting separated from the rest of the party - although that was not _always_ entirely his fault. The terrain did not help.

Thirdly was the fact that some of the plant life seemed to be extremely acidic in nature. Brushing against it caused burns - on clothing and most unfortunately, on skin. Bones was kept very, very busy. The party took to using their phasers to clear a path through the stuff. Never mind that that went against every rule in the book.

And then there were the flying things that were not at all housebroken. Every single member of the party now wore very unsavory decorations. And they smelled. Showers would have been quite welcome.

Thankfully, they had not yet seen any of the predators the sensors had shown. But they were being wary, just the same. Spock kept herding them back into formation, and his tricorder continuously swung back and forth, checking. When he caught the first blip, he immediately warned the rest, and they circled together, facing outward, ready. They got the first one, but that so enraged its mate that even phaser fire did not stop it. Not until two of the landing party lay on the dirt, bleeding. Kirk whipped out his communicator and yelled into it for immediate transport, but he couldn't get through. Bones was on the ground, working as hard as he could, while the two security guards stood watch, at opposite sides of the group.

Kirk continued to work with the communicator, cursing, while Bones cursed even louder, trying to stanch too many wounds with only two hands. He finally demanded that Jim come and help him, unless he wanted Spock to bleed to death. Immediately Jim was on the ground, hands pressed into the largest wounds, while Bones continued to inject, slap pressure bandages on, and do whatever else he could under these conditions. Jim yelled at the security guards to continue to attempt to contact the ship while they kept watch, and after ten exceedingly long minutes, the shimmers of the transporter beam finally appeared.

The transporter bay was chaos, full of medical people with two gurneys, portable stasis units, and iv poles. Scotty beamed the whole mess directly to sick bay. By the time Nyota got there, Spock was already in surgery, and all she could do was wait. Jim stood there, covered in green blood, pale as a sheet, trembling. She went over to him, and clasped his hand, and they both slid down the wall to sit on the floor, unable to stand any longer.

Eventually, Chapel came out and said the botanist who had been injured was out of danger. She looked very tired. She said both McCoy and M'Benga were still working on Spock, and that they had used up all the blood stock that they had on hand. Thankfully, Spock had gotten in the habit of donating a pint of his own blood on a regular basis, for he had a very rare blood type. But they had now used all of that they had had in stasis. They were now reduced to using simple fluids, which were not nearly as effective. But all the major blood vessels had been repaired. She went back into the surgical unit, walking slowly.

Jim turned to Nyota, and saw tears coursing down her cheeks. He put his arm around her shoulders, and tugged her over to lean against him. He didn't know what to say. She wouldn't want him to offer false platitudes, he knew that for sure. Finally, he muttered, "If anyone can save him, it's those two men."

She nodded, trying to take hope from that statement. At least he was still alive, she could tell that much, although the sedatives and anesthesia gave him a very muddled feel. She focused on sending him calm, and strength, and love, as much love as she could fill him with. She felt a very slight lessening of tension. She took a deep breath, and continued, filling him with calm, sending him strength. There was a continual incremental lessening of tension, clearing of the chaos she had first felt. Somehow she knew when they finished, withdrawing their instruments from his body. There was such a feeling of relief, and then peace.

She was already on her feet, Jim looking at her in surprise, when Bones and M'Benga came staggering out to where they were. "He's alive. I think he's going to live." Bones looked like he might collapse at any minute. "They're putting him in a private room. But he's going to be unconscious for some time."

M'Benga nodded, agreeing. "When the anesthesia wears off enough, he will undoubtedly go into a healing trance. We will continue to provide fluids and antibiotics to support him, but it will almost certainly be several days before he completely regains consciousness."

When Chapel came out and said he was now in the private room, they followed her, standing in the doorway, looking at him. Jim went over, and stood there for several minutes, his hand hovering in the air, uncertain whether touching him would cause further pain. Finally, he slumped, and withdrew, passing by Nyota on his way out. He stopped, just for a moment. "Lieutenant, you are excused from duty until he's out of danger." And then he was gone, just like that.

Nyota slowly approached the biobed, sinking down into the chair at its side, reaching out to brush her fingers lightly over his face. He made a small noise, almost inaudible, when she did that, and she leaned closer, stroking his cheek again. He sighed then, and she could actually see the tension draining out of him. She turned back the cover, and found his hand, and linked hers through it, locking her fingers around his. She could feel him now, so much clearer. He was trying to go into the trance he needed, but the drugs were interfering. She bent closer, whispering in his ear. "You're still under the effects of the anesthetics that they gave you for the surgery. You won't be able to go into your healing trance until they wear off."

She felt his agitation then, and tried to soothe him, murmuring softly, squeezing his hand, sending him her love, and slowly it tapered off. The turbulence settled, slowly, and he sank down, into the calmness she recognized as the first level of his meditation cycle. At least he could do that much. She sat and held his hand until she felt him begin to slide away, sinking deeper. Ah, the drugs were wearing off. He descended into the soft deep until she could no longer reach him, only sense him. And then she lay her head down on the edge of the biobed and drifted off into an exhausted sleep herself, still clinging to his hand.


	12. Chapter 12:Bad Patient

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 12: Bad Patient**

**Late March, 2270**

Although he was greatly relieved to be released to his own quarters, he was still not satisfied, as he was forbidden to even contact his lab, to see how things fared there. They had been warned not to answer if he called. This was not in the slightest bit fair. He sat at the comlink and fumed at the message on the screen "This channel is blocked. Do not attempt to access it again until released by doctor's orders."

He felt Nyota's cool hand on his shoulder and then she bent and touched her cheek to his. "It won't be much longer. Len just wants to be absolutely sure that you're not going to have another setback. You lost an awful lot of blood."

He supposed that she was correct. It did not make this inactivity any easier to bear. "I simply wished to bring myself up to date on the status of the lab. This involves no stress on my body."

She sighed. "I know, love. But I don't make the rules. Just go along with it, okay? The more you protest, the worse you're going to feel."

When he only sighed, but did not complain further, she tugged at his hand, and drew him to the table, where she had hot food ready for him. Although he did not have much appetite, he dutifully ate what she put before him, knowing from experience that she would sit there watching him until he did so.

After she had cleared the table, she brought him his ka'athyra, and her own as well. It was extremely pleasant to play with her accompaniment. He forgot for some time how irritated he was.

And later, she took his hand, and drew him to the bed, and nestled up against him, and he breathed in her familiar scent, and slept better than he had since he was injured. And knew, by the lack of response in his body, that he was truly not as recovered as he had thought he was.

It was difficult to fill the hours. The stack of technical journals that Nyota brought him helped, but sitting still and reading was only comfortable for so many hours out of the day. And then he began to fidget. He refused to use that word, but that is what he was doing.

Perhaps some very mild exercise. He performed the basic stretches that he had learned many years before, and quivered with exhaustion by the time he was finished. Tomorrow he would try again. For now, he would read some more, but perhaps he might take a short nap first. Although he would not admit such to Nyota, even when she bit her lip to keep from laughing at him.

Once again, she spread the food on the table and he ate to satisfy her. Perhaps this evening it tasted better. And she nestled against his body again, in the darkness of his sleeping alcove. This was undisputedly the best part of his day.

McCoy came by the next day and caught him doing the stretches, near the end of the set, when he was beginning to sweat and quiver, and yelled at him for a good five minutes, storming out the door in high dungeon. He staggered to his bed and collapsed. Perhaps he was indeed attempting too much.

Nyota came in that evening and just stood and looked at him, until he wished that she would just yell at him. He had been able to feel her displeasure all afternoon, and it nagged at him like a toothache. Finally she came over and bent down, putting her face right in front of his, so that he had no choice but to look at her. "Don't you want to get well?"

"Of course I do." He wished she would back up, so that he did not feel that he was being stabbed by the hot look in her eyes. But she did not.

"Then why are you trying so hard to make yourself even worse off than you are? Why, Spock? I don't understand." Her eyes sparkled with tears now.

He sighed. "I am not trying to make myself worse. I was trying to strengthen my muscles, which are weak from inactivity."

"Then go slower. Obviously whatever you were doing was too much."

He could only agree with her. When she felt his acquiescence, she relaxed. And proceeded to feed him again, and then lead him to the bathroom, and into the shower. The feel of her hands on his body was intoxicating. He leaned back against the wet wall and relished the slide of her wet flesh against his, the feel of the slippery suds between them. And then she took up the big towel, and rubbed him dry, while he just stood there like a satisfied cat, and enjoyed. And this night, when she curled up against him, he felt the beginnings of stirrings, of responses starting to return. And was content.

The days passed far too slowly. He read all the technical journals that had accumulated, as well as all of Nyota's. He was finally given permission to receive one report a day from his lab, and relished that small bit of knowledge, savoring the reading with great pleasure. He continued with the stretches, starting with only the first part, and gradually adding more, until he could finish the entire set without wavering on his feet afterwards. And the next time she drew him into the shower, he rose hot and hard against her bottom, making her moan at him. He knew better than to lift her against the wall, however, and pulled her back close against him, cupping her breasts in his hands, rolling her nipples between his fingers, nuzzling against her neck, until she quivered against him, full of need. And then he dropped to his knees and spread her apart, and feasted, until she spasmed against him, filling him with light, and heat, and joy. And went he rose again, to cradle her, she slid down his body, to take him in her mouth, and turn his whole body into flame. He shuddered and shook with the power of it, and slumped against the wall afterwards. That night he slept so soundly that he was not even aware when she slipped out of the bed in the morning to head for the bridge.

That did appear to be the turning point. Every day after that he grew just a big stronger, just a big more stable. He went from stretches to more complicated exercises. And one night, when Nyota entered his quarters, he crossed the room quickly and lifted her up off the floor, and carried her straight to his bed, not letting her up until she was so relaxed, so sated, that she only laid there and grinned at him.


	13. Chapter 13:I am Totally Recovered

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 13: I Am Totally Recovered**

**Mid April, 2270**

He strode down the corridors to sick bay, for his weekly checkup. He was irritated beyond belief that he had not yet been released to duty. He worked hard at suppressing his irritability, but still it was difficult, boiling right there under the surface.

When McCoy ran all his scanners over his body, muttering at having to recalibrate everything again, he fumed. When he checked all his reflexes and tested all his muscle strength, he seethed. And when he just sat there on his stool, tapping his chin with one finger, he could stand it no longer.

"I can totally recovered."

"Yes, I believe you are."

He stopped, his mouth hanging open. "You agree with me?"

"Yes, I suppose I do." McCoy's eyes twinkled. "Didn't expect that, did you?"

"You will release me for full activity again?"

"Well, now, that I'm not entirely sure of. Might not be such a good idea."

He could not help himself. He glared at the doctor. "And why might that be?"

"Well, it's like this. Ever since you got hurt, Jim has been behaving himself. He hasn't gotten himself hurt once. Maybe if you stay out of action a while longer, he might get in the habit of staying safe."

"Doctor, I do not believe this is a valid belief."

McCoy sighed. "You're probably right. But it was tempting, anyway. Okay, you're released for active duty, for everything but landing parties. None of those for another month at least, until you're able to start building up my blood supply again. Right now there's nothing there in case you get hurt again."

He nodded. This at least was a valid, logical reason. He could live with that. "You will inform the captain, then?"

"Yes, and I'm sure you'll find yourself back on the rotation by tomorrow morning. So don't wear yourself out this evening celebrating."

He raised one eyebrow at the doctor, and strode out of sick bay, silently exulting. He could feel Nyota, through their bond, laughing softly at his relief.

He met her in the mess hall at lunchtime, and spoke to several of his fellow officers. And Jim came by, and slapped him on the shoulder, and said he would see him on the bridge in the morning. Thankfully, he did not offer the same warning that McCoy had.

In the evening, they did not go to the mess hall. Instead they spent their time together, feeding each other fruit and cheese, and nibbling on each other's fingers, and other bodily parts. He slept, not worn out, but very pleasantly relaxed. And in the morning, they headed for the bridge together.

He sat at his station for the first time in weeks, and ran his hands over the console, letting the familiar feel of the metal and plastic insinuate itself back into his memories. It was very good to be back where he belonged, even if it did require that he accept all the good wishes of the rest of the bridge crew. Nyota was the only one who did not feel it necessary to stop by his station at least twice that day to say how nice it was to have him back again. He was beginning to be quite annoyed by shift end.

They headed for the mess hall, and there were more good wishes to accept. He tried to maintain proper demeanor, but it was growing more difficult. He had no resistance at all when Nyota drew him away, headed for her quarters. He had not been in her quarters in some time, feeling more comfortable recovering in his own. And then there was the fact that McCoy had come to his quarters on a regular basis, to be sure that he was not doing anything to retard his recovery. Being found in her quarters instead of his would have been … uncomfortable. Now however, he went willingly, and let her order him around with no complaints at all. She knew exactly what he needed, and she provided it most willingly, until she finally fell asleep, a wide grin on her face. He settled back, her head on his shoulder, and thought over the last few weeks. He was a lucky man indeed, to have her. Most definitely lucky.


	14. Chapter 14:Alone

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 14: Alone**

**Late April, 2270**

It was a necessary part of her job, and in addition, a great honor. To be specifically requested to attend the design meetings for the next generation of the universal translator was not something that one could, or should want to, turn down. She was right to be excited about it. Still, he could not help but feel concerned over the fact that she would be gone from his side for so long. Three weeks was either a very short period of time, or indefinitely long.

He schooled himself to hide his dismay, even from himself. He was Vulcan, he should be impassive. He reminded himself that they would not be truly parted, through the link he would still be connected to her. She would just not be where he could touch her, and she would not be in his bed, breathing softly against his skin as he fell into sleep.

He tried to present a calm and orderly demeanor, and he almost succeeded, but the night before she left, he gave her little chance to sleep, waking her repeatedly with caresses and bringing her to one peak after another, leaving her so sated that she stood on the transporter pad with a soft smile still on her face. He had tried to stay away, to remain at his post on the bridge, but at the last moment he had strode hurriedly down to stand beside the console, his hands clasped tightly behind him, to watch until the last shimmer had died away. And then he had turned, and walked away, tightly controlled.

He sat at his station, and performed his duties, and if occasionally his eyes drifted sideways, and he started to see another person there, where she belonged, he could not be faulted. He ate at the table where he usually ate, talking with Scotty, and Bones, and Jim, just as usual, but there was no soft hand laying on his thigh under the table, no melodious voice joining in the conversation, no soft scent drifting to his nose. And when he returned to his quarters, he sank down in front of his firepot, but he did not meditate this night, he simply sat there, and thought of her.

He could feel her, as she attended the meetings, how excited she was. And in the evenings, he felt her yearning, her quiet loneliness. He tried to reach out to her, but he was not sure that she could feel him. The distance was greater than they had ever tried to reach across before. And he felt that she was trying to shield him from her disquiet. He wished she would not.

There was no one to discuss the newest technical journal with. He did not attend movie night without her, and missed the feel of her fingers, feeding him popcorn. He performed his required physical conditioning, but missed seeing her run beside him, another body on that treadmill causing a continuous disruption to his concentration.

It seemed that everywhere he went, and everything that he did, reminded him that she was not there. And there did not seem to be anything that he could do about it.

He was not used to this feeling, this loneliness. It hurt. He dealt with it as best he could. He continued to play chess with Jim, and to banter with Bones, and discuss engineering problems with Scotty. And he tried to make himself believe that he was fine. But in the middle of the night, when the ship was quiet, and the only noise that he heard was the hum of the giant engines and the soft hiss of the great fans that moved the air about the ship, he longed to hear her quiet breathing, the soft sound of her pulsing heart, and he ached.


	15. Chapter 15:Return

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 15: Return**

**Mid May, 2270**

On the day that she was due back, he continually monitored the communications from the transporter deck, and he could not concentrate on anything. He could feel her now, so much stronger, and she was full of anticipation, so eager to return to him. When he heard Scotty talking to the transporter technician on the Yorktown, he rose from his station and informed the captain that he was taking a short break. Behind his back, as he strode toward the turbolift, Jim grinned widely, knowing exactly where that break would take his first officer.

He arrived in the transporter bay just as the swirling shimmers started, and stood there, watching her gradually solidify. And when the transmission was complete, he stepped forward, and offered his hand to help her down. She glowed, her smile wide. Scotty's greeting was entirely ignored as she tucked her hand through his elbow and they left the transporter bay, eyes only for each other. Behind them Scotty chuckled. He would bet the entire contents of his still at that moment that they were not headed directly for the bridge.

And he was not wrong, not at all. Spock took her straight to his quarters, and they were no more than inside before he lifted her up, and ducked his head under her skirt, and ripped her panties from her body with his teeth, fastening his mouth upon her while she moaned and shivered. His tongue moved so fast, and so deep, upon her that it took no time at all for her to buck and shudder and scream at him. And then he carried her to the bed, and laid her down, undoing the seal of his trousers as he did, and plunged into her body, shuddering in ecstasy as he did so. He hung suspended over her, buried to the hilt, afraid to move even one muscle, because it would all come to an end as soon as he did. And then she moved beneath him, pushing up against him, and he roared at her, filling her with his hot semen, in heavy surges that left them both panting for breath.

"Ah, Spock, I've missed you so." Her voice curled over him, soothing, exciting, filling all the empty places.

"As I have missed you, Nyota. Life has been empty without you here to share it with." He could hide nothing from her, nothing at all. She was his life and she must know this, understand it.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and drew him down to her, pulling his ear into her mouth, making him growl at her, and then he was pumping against her, long, deep strokes that made her moan and sigh against his body, her hands clutching, her legs pulling him tighter against her, until they reached that crest again, and the whole world was light, and heat, and joy, and love.

When he could breathe again, and think, he slowly withdrew from her body, and rose and went into the bathroom, returning to her with a damp cloth, so that she could clean her body. But she just giggled at him and said she thought a shower was more in order, and he looked down at his uniform and had to agree with her. And so they found themselves in the shower, trying to hurry, trying to keep the water from their hair this time. And she laughed, and smiled, and his heart swelled to hear it.

He had had the forethought to be sure that she had sufficient clothing choices here in his quarters, and she was dressed again almost as soon as he was. And then he escorted her to the bridge, where the captain was grinning widely for some reason, and the other bridge officers as well. He even thought he heard a few snickers, but surely he was mistaken. It was not until he heard Scotty's voice over the intercom, wanting to know how long it had taken them to get to the bridge that he understood. Their diversion was known by all. He glanced to her, to see her smiling widely. Well, if she was not upset, then neither would he be. After all, HE was the one she had chosen, not any of the others. And if that was not something to be proud of, and grateful for, then he did not know what was.


	16. Chapter 16:Strange Signals

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 16: Strange Signals**

**Late May, 2270**

The second week after she returned to the ship, they intercepted some very strange signals. They did not match anything in the computer banks. Very excited, she used the new algorithms she had learned at the conference, the ones that were going into the next generation of the universal translator. After much diligence, she was able to interpret part of what was being transmitted. It seemed to be a request for help.

She composed a reply, and asked him to verify what she had done. The new algorithms had some tricky mathematical components. Now and then he asked a question, and applied the answer to his verification technique. When he agreed with what she had done, she sighed happily, and sent it out.

Almost instantly there was a reply. It appeared to contain coordinates. He checked to see where that point might be. Fairly close. They could get there at a moderate rate on speed in twenty-five point three minutes. Kirk gave Chekov and Sulu the go-ahead, and the course was plotted, and laid in, and they were on their way.

The messages continued to come in, and Nyota continued to work at deciphering them, and composing replies. She became more confident of her use of the new algorithms, and relied less on him as they approached their rendezvous.

But when they reached what they thought were the right coordinates, there was nothing there. He scanned in all directions, but could find nothing with his sensors except stars and space dust. She asked for confirmation, and he assisted her in translating the message, and indeed, they were at the specified location, but there was nothing there. He did not know what to try next. They began a slow spiral, out from the point where they had started, scanning continuously, while she worked hard, trying to get more information. The others, whoever, or whatever, they were, insisted that they were there, but they could perceive nothing.

It was not until they completed the second complete circuit of the spiral that he detected something. Something very small, very compact, and very near the place where they had started. He focused on it, increasing the magnification as much as he could, and told her to project his findings onto the main viewscreen.

And there it was, a perfect ship, but so small it was almost unbelievable. The beings on it would not be more than a millimeter in height. Everyone was stunned. This was something totally new, totally unexpected. They tried to explain to those others what the problem was, but they refused to believe. And he supposed it must sound fantastic to them, as fantastic as they seemed to those on board the Enterprise.

The only thing they could do was withdraw. They had no wish to damage that other ship, and were not certain how they had managed not to do so when they had been close.

When Bones came to the bridge, bored because sick bay was empty, he at first refused to believe. But when he saw the scans, and heard the messages, he reacted very strangely, wanting to know why they had not captured the tiny vessel, as a curiosity. It was not until he asked him whether he would have been pleased to find himself in such a situation, if the roles were reversed, that he ceased his complaining.


	17. Chapter 17:Habit

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 17: Habit**

**Mid June, 2270**

It did not take long, after that, for them to fall into a permanent routine, one which quickly became habit to them both. Anyone observing them, who did not know their background, would have assumed that they were a long wed couple, familiar in the extreme to their partner. However, it was the link between them that made them so comfortable with each other, so closely attuned to the other's needs.

They spent more nights in his quarters than in hers, for his bed was longer and slightly wider than hers, and more comfortable for him. And more and more of her clothing was found in his closet and dresser because of this. They worked out together in the gym every Saturday morning, and no longer tried to hide the fact that this was by choice, and not because he felt that her abilities were in any way subpar. Every Wednesday evening, they took their ka'athyras to the rec room, and entertained, playing a different type of music each week. And on movie night, they always, always were there, eating popcorn, and leaning against each other. On Mondays, when he played chess with Jim, she met with her friends, and talked and laughed, and nibbled on chocolate, always saving a piece for him. This was a night they usually spent in her quarters, because he was in no condition to walk the corridors after consuming whatever chocolate confection she offered him.

They ate all meals together, sitting next to one another, but they had been doing that so long now, that no one noticed it at all anymore. And on the bridge, they continued to be the correct, professional officers that they had always been. Kirk continued to watch them, hoping to find something, anything, that he could tease them about, but he was entirely unsuccessful.

And they were extremely content, public at last, and free of the task of concealing their connection. Although there were very few that realized just how deep that connection was, or that there was a bond between them. It was not necessary for that to be known.

They walked the corridors, and sat in the observatory, and wandered through the arboretum, just as they had been doing for some time now. And she still laughed, and flirted with her male friends, and he did not protest, for he knew all her attention was on him.

They spent the parts of their evenings that were not devoted to one of their regular events nestled together on the couch, reading their technical journals, or sitting on the floor pillows, meditating, although she was not nearly as proficient as he at that. She did try, however.

And always, every night, they slept curled about one another, sated and content.


	18. Chapter 18:Acceptance

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 18: Acceptance**

**Late June, 2270**

The whispers had almost stopped. Seeing them together had become so commonplace that most paid no attention anymore. Conversations no longer stopped when she walked into a room, and that was just fine.

She could well do without the whispers, and the raised eyebrows, and the dropped jaws that had been common when they first became completely open about their relationship. It was much nicer now, with the crew accepting it as commonplace. They were no longer the 'hot topic'. It was time for something or someone else's fifteen minutes of fame.

But occasionally she felt that someone was staring at her back, or someone would leave a room when they came in, or she would hear a whisper just not quiet loud enough to be clear, and she would wonder why those people could just not accept what was between them.

There was one who had definitely been hurt when she realized that the rumors were true, and she had come and yelled in Nyota's face, and cried, turning to flee before Nyota could offer any explanation at all. And they were no longer friends, and that hurt. Surely in time, she would realize that her feelings had never been reciprocated, that there had never been a chance that what she wished would happen would actually ever happen. But for now she was hurt, and lonely, because she would not discuss it with anyone.

And occasionally, she saw some man's eyes on her, someone she had been friendly with, who now looked at her puzzled, and slightly hurt, as though to say "could I not have been enough?". She didn't know how to handle those. She did not think she had ever offered any sort of hope to any of them, but then, you never knew how people would interpret your actions. She continued to be friendly, and hoped it would be enough.

The crew on the bridge had settled down, and acted as though they had been a couple forever. The light banter had returned, the slight weirdness that she had felt at first completely gone. And so life settled down, and a new normal came to be, and it was comfortable, and wonderful. And his warmth was there, by her side, or at her back, at all possible times. And she treasured it.


	19. Chapter 19:Kirk's Questions

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 19: Kirk's Questions**

**Mid July, 2270**

It was quiet on the bridge, nothing at all happening, and as often was the case under those circumstances, the captain was fidgety. So he started asking questions. "Hey, Sulu! What are you going to do with your long leave?"

"Going home to see my parents and siblings. Then maybe some parasail gliding."

"And after that, are you going to be available when the Enterprise comes out of dry dock?"

"I don't know, sir. It depends on what kind of assignment I get between now and then. I don't really know where they're going to send me."

Kirk nodded, not entirely content with that answer. "Chekov! What about you?"

"I am going home to Russia, sir. To wisit vith my family. After dat, I don't know. Ve hawen't heard anyding about our next assignments yet."

Kirk sighed. He turned to Scotty, who was doing something with the engineering console while the ensign assigned to that station stood by and watched, holding his tools. "Okay, Scotty, how about you?"

"Edinburgh, sir! For as long as they'll let me stay! And then I'm going to be overseeing the engine overhaul on this old girl, so I'll be around."

"Well! Good to hear SOMEONE's going to be here." He looked around the bridge, searching for his next target. "Spock! Where are you headed?"

"First to Vulcan, then to Earth. I have no word on my next assignment."

"Uhura, do you have any idea what your next assignment is?"

"Not a clue, sir." But she was relieved he hadn't asked her where she was going on long leave.

"Don't any of you guys want to be on this ship after it's been updated? Has it been that bad serving under me?"

Sulu looked around, hesitantly. "It's not that, sir. This is a good crew, and we work well together. But StarFleet is not going to keep us just sitting around for who knows how long while the ship is retro-fitted. If they give us short assignments, so that we're available when the times comes, that's one thing, but we can't know that. We don't even know how long the ship's going to be sidelined."

Kirk sighed again. "I guess you're right. But it sure would be hard to have to start all over again with a fresh crew when I've gotten used to working with you lot. Very hard not to have the best and the brightest under my command." He continued to sit in his chair and sulk, but all over the bridge, his officers sat a little straighter and felt a little better, because of the casual statements he had made.


	20. Chapter 20:Goodbyes All Around

**The Rest of the Mission**

**Chapter 20: Goodbye's All Around**

**Late July, 2270**

They were in Spock's quarters, on the couch. She was leaning against him, one arm draped loosely about him, her legs curled up on the couch beside her. He had his arm around her shoulders, and leaned down from time to time to nuzzle against her hair. They were talking quietly about what they planned to do during the long leave. First they would go to Vulcan, and have a formal bonding ceremony. And then they would go to Earth, to Africa, and he would meet her family, and they would almost certainly have another wedding there, for her parents would not believe that a Vulcan bonding ceremony was legal on Earth or for a human woman. But before they did these things, they would take two weeks for themselves, to go to another cabin, on another lake, and have the honeymoon they preferred. Spock had already reserved the cabin, and a small flitter for their use, and ordered the food they would need while they were there.

She was a bit hesitant about what they might run into on Vulcan. She felt his family might resist his desires. He assured her that he would not let them do so. And as they were already bonded, any attempts to force him to give her up and take a Vulcan mate would automatically fail. She was not as convinced about the whole thing as he was. But he assured her that his father had no leg to stand on, logically speaking, in attempting to persuade him to take a Vulcan wife. He himself had not done so. She agreed with that, and sighed. Perhaps he was right. But Sarek had just not seemed entirely friendly to her before, and she was not entirely convinced.

On the other hand, he was not at all sure what would be expected of him in Africa. She explained her family's beliefs and customs to him, and assured him that he would not be expected to eat the roasted goat that would surely be the main feature of the feast that would be thrown in their honor. They might expect him to dress in local clothing, though, but she did not see how that would bother him, as there was a great deal of similarity to the clothing her father and brother wore, and that which his father wore, and what he had worn in the few holovids he had from his childhood. But the idea of the shivaree upset him greatly, and she could not convince him that it was all in a spirit of good fun.

The two weeks in the cabin, however, they were both agreed upon. It would be heavenly. They would have a chance to wind down from the stresses of the mission, and would be ready to take on any opposition that they encountered. And when she began to describe exactly what she intended to do while they were there, and what she was taking with her to wear there, he became so interested that he lifted her from the couch and carried her into the bedroom, nuzzling at her neck while she moaned at him.

The week that followed was hectic. Everyone was packing and carrying cartons to the cargo deck, ready for transport as soon as the docked at the spaceport. Everyone was required to completely empty their quarters, putting everything into storage containers, which would be transported to StarFleet Storage on Earth. If they were assigned elsewhere, those containers would go with them. If they decided to leave the service, the containers would be transported to whatever their destination was. The few who would be working with the Enterprise while she was in dry dock would have those containers sent to the temporary quarters they would be assigned for that duration. The halls were constantly full, and anti-gravity lifts were steered down the corridors at all hours of the night and day. And of course, all the small tools, and reference materials, and parts inventory, must be packed away as well. All the games and cards and other things in the rec rooms must be packed. And all the plants that were scattered about the ship must be moved to the arboretum. Everything was hectic.

And in addition to all that, there were the good-bye parties. It was almost certain that many of these people were seeing each other for the last time. Some would serve on another ship together at some point in the future, but who knew where or when. And so they sat about, and talked, and drank, and ate prodigiously. And on the last day, there were tears, as well, as it really, truly sunk in. This might well be a permanent goodbye. It was a difficult thing to accept. They were a good, tight crew, and had enjoyed working together and knowing each other. Who knew what would happen next?

"*****-***"

Author's Note: This is the last chapter of this story. The next story in this series is "Unfinished Business", which starts tomorrow.


End file.
